


Dream Girl

by Antigone2



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: F/M, Post-Stars, dreams trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24186076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antigone2/pseuds/Antigone2
Summary: It had just been so much lately, what with Galaxia and the study abroad that wasn't and the frantic making up of schoolwork that he must have passed out over his physics notes…and sunk into a half-dream half-memory that had his blood still pounding in his ears - and elsewhere.
Relationships: Chiba Mamoru/Tsukino Usagi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 166





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you thank you thank you to Irritable-vowel-types. you are just my love.  
> and to FloraOne for always encouraging me when I'd rather whine about not writing than actually write

_Her hand was warm in his as he tugged her alongside him, pulling her into a small alcove between two stone hallways flanking the Golden Kingdom atrium._

_"Dimi!" Serenity said, her voice an admonishment as much as a giggle. He was laughing too, his smile coming so easily around her. She let out a breath and looked at him from where she stood, framed by marble as white as her skin. Tapered fingers curled into his tunic, and blue eyes looked up at him from beneath a dusky haze of lashes. "You are reckless," she said, breath puffing on his face since he was so, so close… and then her mouth was on his, hot and warm and sweet and soft, soft._

_His confident hands glided along her warm skin beneath the gossamer fabric of her dress and ran up along her belly to caress her breasts, making her gasp-giggle into his mouth as she pressed herself against his erection, pulling on the laces of his pants._

_His mouth was in the process of following his hands, to taste the salt-sweet skin between her breasts, to slip her dress aside and slide his tongue along that perfect, pert, pink nipple, when her deft, little hand slipped down into his half-unlaced pants and grasped him - just hard enough, just gently enough, tugging just enough to elicit a soft moan._

_"Now who's reckless?" he managed to pant against her skin, her hair, as she continued to touch him in that perfect, perfect way…_ oh, god.

_"Who? Me?" She pulled her lowe_ r _lip out, blinking up at him with exaggerated innocence. "Whatever do you mean?" she said, still stroking him, her breath in swallowed gasps as he rocked his hips forward._

_His hands were frantically caressing her skin - her body, her hair, her scent, he wanted - no, needed- everything she was to utterly surround him, to envelope his senses completely the way she'd already claimed his heart. He pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses against her ear and her neck and her collarbone because he had to taste all of her and she had the nerve to giggle breathlessly in his ear as she shifted against him..._

"Hey!"

_And the fabric of her dress bunched up around her waist, one long leg wrapped around him as he lifted her bottom up and braced her against the marble. Her eyes were half-lidded and dark with desire and he shook with the anticipation of knowing soon he'd be inside her…_

"Hey!"

_He pulled back slightly, looking at Serenity's long-lashed eyes and perfect pink mouth. "Did you hear that?" he tried to say, but his mouth wouldn't work._

And then he was blinking into the brightness of the library study room, blearly with sleep and confusion.

"Hey!" an unfamiliar voice said, and, blinking, Mamoru turned toward the door to see another student standing at the door, bookbag over her shoulder.

He was reeling from the sensation of luscious lips against his skin and soft, supple flesh beneath his hands, that it took him a few moments to register her words.

"I have this room booked for four-thirty," the girl stated. Then she raked her eyes over his disheveled appearance and frowned. "This room is for studying, not napping."

Hurriedly wiping the drool from his cheek, Mamoru flushed, gathering his books and notebooks that were scattered over the table. "I know," he mumbled. "I was…"

It had just been so much lately, what with Galaxia and the study abroad that wasn't and the frantic making up of schoolwork that he must have passed out over his physics notes…

and sunk into a half-dream half-memory that had his blood still pounding in his ears - and elsewhere.

Awkwardly he started to gather his things, tried to haul his foggy mind back to the present. "Sorry, I'll um… give me a minute?" he asked, cringing apologetically. She rolled her eyes, but did close the door and wait outside.

He swallowed hard, gathering his thoughts and his wits, and forcing his mind to focus on something that wasn't the oh-so-real feeling of soft hands on his cock, silken hair drifting along his skin, Serenity's -Usagi's - breathy giggle in his ear.

Stop it, Chiba, he admonished himself. He'd dreamt memories of the Silver Millennium before, but never before had they been so… vivid. Or so... pornographic. He really needed to get it together.

Deeply aware of the dark blush staining his cheeks as he nodded an apology at the girl waiting, he left the room and walked swiftly toward the large glass doors at the exit of the university library.

Mamoru wasn't used to being caught off-guard or embarrassed - that was really more of Usagi's purview, not that his girlfriend ever cared what strangers thought of her. Usagi would've been one charming, giggling apology away from making a new friend if she'd ever gotten caught sleeping in a study room by an uptight brunette.

He glanced at his watch, making some quick calculations. He'd have to hustle if he wanted to make it to Gyu-Kaku in time for dinner.

As if the universe could read his thoughts, his phone buzzed in his pocket and he flipped it open to see a sms message from Usagi. 'Running L8. 20m or so? Sry! ILU!'

He still picked up the pace as he walked across the quad to the subway stop. He might be a bit of a hot mess right now, but there was no way he was going to show up after Usagi on a date.

The restaurant was Friday-night crowded, cozy with the din of conversation and the smoky cooking smell from the table grills. Mamoru barely had time to squeeze into the corner table and take off his jacket before Usagi burst through the crowd, a bouncing beam of pink-sweatered sunshine, all golden hair and long, long legs.

"Mamo-chan! Sorry, were you waiting long?" She pushed into the seat across from him, bumping the chair behind her and throwing her bunny-printed tote bag carelessly on the floor beneath the table. "Did you put our order in?"

Her long legs folded beneath the table, knees touching his, the ball of her foot bouncing on the toe of his shoe. Usually dinner with Usagi on Fridays was blissfully routine in the best way, but tonight he still felt a bit discombobulated from the dream-slash-memory and how jarring it was waking from it. She was so fresh and real in front of him, he felt first-date nervous and new-crush jumpy.

And Usagi was chattering in that lovely way she does, her lips and little breaths between words and even the movements of her pretty little hands were mirrors of the woman in his dream, the same voice had giggle-gasped in his ear, while her hands… those same hands…

He grabbed his water and took a very long, cooling glug. _This is Usako,_ he reminded himself, _don't be a pervert._

"I want, like, some of everything," Usagi told the waitress, flipping the menu to the side like so much unnecessary reading. At the woman's concerned look, Mamoru put in a slightly less ambitious order for them both. Usagi pouted, which made her lips look extra lushious.

At that, Mamoru also ordered a sake.

Soon the meat was cooking on the grill, and they were both happily eating the hot seasoned beef and soft rice, Usagi with careless abandon, and Mamoru with much more measured (but still appreciative) bites.

"You be careful with the fire, Usako," he admonished, as she poked her chopsticks eagerly toward the grill for more Korean-style pork.

"I AM careful," she informed him, reaching over the grill with her flammable sweater rolled up over her delicate wrists, _right above the flame._

"You're gonna give me gray hairs," Mamoru muttered, good naturedly.

He lifted his sake glass and Usagi giggled, sticking out her lower lip and blinking at him with exaggeratedly wide-eyed innocence. "Who? Me?"

And the sake missed his mouth completely and he dropped the glass into his lap.

"Oh no! Mamo-chan!" Usagi half-sat up out of her seat and leaned over to survey the damage. She seemed to realize at the same time he did that leaning over a hot grill when you have 4 foot long pigtails wasn't a wise choice.

Without another thought, Usagi shrugged and ducked under the table, popping her head out near his knees.

"Us-Usako! What-"

"Don't worry, I'm like, an expert at getting food and drink stains out of clothing…" she said, reaching over his lap with her cloth napkin, clearly about to just dab away at his crotch. He shifted in the seat as if burned.

"Uh, Usa, it's just clear sake… it - it'll dry!"

"Are you sure?" Her hand was still hovering over his lap, and he could practically taste the memory of her touch there, how her hands would feel...

"I'm sure!" He took her hands and pressed them back toward her, gently. "I'm sure just… your hair is on the floor, Usako. Go back and sit." He smiled at her. "I'm fine."

She looked a bit doubtful but ended up crawling back to her chair and starting in on her food again. "You sure you're okay?" she asked him, around a mouthful of rice. He nodded, focusing intently on the uncomfortable feeling of sake-damp pants, and not at all on the soft moans Usako always made into her food.

Forget about ancient history, he told himself. _That was a different time, a different circumstance. Usako and I have no need to rush things, we have all the time in the world…_

He still ordered another cup of sake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow thanks so much for the enthusiastic response this fic got! I hope you guys are all doing well because it's definitely a struggle some days. Thank goodness for fanfic and the friends I have and all you reviewers (you know who you are! I hope!) whose names I recognize and who are always so kind and supportive.
> 
> The next couple chapters should be longer, this is still kinda set-up territory. 
> 
> Thanks to my fandom wife Irritable-vowel-types and my fandom mistress FloraOne. And everyone in the group chats.

_"Shhh…" His voice was a strangled whisper, as much to himself as Serenity. It wasn't just her gasps and sweet mewls, but the movement of the bed itself he needed to quell. The walls were stone and sound did travel. He knew his general, sleeping in the next room, would hear the tell-tale bang of his bed posts hitting the wall if they should move too, too much. Be quieter, more secret, even as his very being hummed in pleasure like a plucked string instrument._

_He curled his hands around her hips, soft flesh, as she rolled over him, riding him in perfect, undulating movements. Her lips found his, and the kiss was deep and wet and he swallowed her moans as best he could. Quiet, quiet, my love, kiss me to muffle our cries._

_The room was dark, but the moonlight spilled through the small, high windows and illuminated her hair, falling like a gossamer curtain around them. Her breasts were bare and there for his mouth and hands to take their fill. Her luscious pink lips had fallen open in ecstasy. He was hard, hard and deep, deep inside her. The pleasure was blindingly perfect as she started to orgasm around him, hands clasping at his shoulders, mouth open and hot against his neck, as he wanted to keen with her, mingling their voices the way their bodies did, but no, no, no, we must be quiet we must be secret we must… oh god oh god this is sweet endless heaven this is the entire cosmos bursting through his body this is…_

Mamoru awoke right at the climax and almost cried out in strangled frustration. It was the weekend, and he'd managed to sleep in a bit - the clock by his nightstand informed him was 9am. He was in modern Tokyo, in his own bed- not in a secret, frantic embrace with his forbidden love.

His love who was no longer forbidden, who almost certainly was still fast asleep in her parents' house, dreaming innocent, sweet dreams about rainbows and kittens and chaste kisses in the rain. His love whom he was lucky enough, he reminded himself, to be with freely, openly. To someday marry, and to kiss, and hold and smell and touch and _touch and touch and god she was so soft and so sweet and it had felt so, so good …_

Fuck.

He needed a cold shower, and fast.

Mamoru stood in the bathtub, letting the cool water fall down his back. He leaned his hands on the tile and lowered his head, water falling down his hair, into his eyes and mouth and nose.

It wasn't the first time he'd dreamed about physical intimacy with Usagi - there'd been early teenage fantasies about the mystery princess, when he first noticed how beautiful she was. There'd been dreams of Sailor Moon - even before he knew his real connection to her. With those boots and that skirt who could really blame him? And then, of course, his gorgeous girlfriend with her miles of golden hair and legs for days and soft lips and small pert breasts… He'd been dealing with attraction to her since the test paper hit his head when he was 16.

It also wasn't the first time he'd had vivid memories of the Silver Millennium. After he learned about their past, he experienced Endymion and Serenity's first meeting, their first kiss, their tragic end, and many moments in between both lovely and painful, in memories that played out in his dreams.

But, never before had the two combined in this perfect storm of ultra-realistic moments of carnal passion from his past life. Until then, he hadn't even been sure Endymion and Serenity had even _been_ intimate. Hadn't Endymion looked upon his princess as a pure and perfect angel? How had they ended up coiled up together in his bed? His hands moving so surely and confidently along her body, his lips sating their craving for the salt of her skin with abandon...

Mamoru forced himself into the present, where he was going to get dressed, make coffee and do school work at his living room table. Nothing even remotely sexy about studying the Krebs cycle, he told himself.

Over the rush of the water, he thought he heard a banging sound but when he turned off the water, it had stopped.

Shaking his head, but grateful for the brief distraction, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom…

Right into Usagi.

He blinked. But… but… it wasn't even noon! On a Sunday! She couldn't be here, in front of him, in a slouchy top clearly cut from the cloth of the devil because it fell so tantalizingly over one shoulder.

"Usa...ko?" he managed. His hand tightened on the towel.

"Hi, Mamo-chan!" She beamed, brandishing the spare key he'd given her. "I let myself in!"

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug, not seeming to care at all that he was damp from the shower and also half naked.

Were his bath towels always so thin? He could've sworn he splurged on the good quality, thick fluffy ones, but now that they were the only thing between his privates and Usagi's mini-skirted abdomen, they felt far too flimsy.

"Hmm you smell good," she said, nuzzling closer to him. "Fresh from the shower." Her hair tickled his chest and her hands burned into his lower back.

"Uh…" He backed away, laughing nervously. "I'm, uh, gonna get dressed real quick so uh… you wait here okay?" He put his hands up, palm out, and then the towel started to slip a bit lower down his waist.

Scrambling in horror, he grabbed the towel and yanked it up again, leaving one hand out as if warding Usagi away, while he darted into the bedroom and slammed the door.

"Not that I'm not thrilled to see you," Mamoru called, as he pulled a t-shirt over his head, "but why are you here so early?"

"Oh, I'm meeting Minako soon to get pedicures. But yesterday Ami gave me some books to return to you. So I thought… why wait all the way 'till next date night? I can just bring them by on the way to meeting Mina."

Mamoru opened the door, now fully dressed but still feeling flustered. It felt like only a few moments ago he'd been mid-orgasm, losing himself completely to his lover's considerable charms. It was so hard to remain focused when the girl herself was standing in his living room in the shortest skirt this side of the Shinagawa.

And Usagi was back in his arms before he could blink. "I left the books on your sofa," she said, proudly.

"Thank you, Usako," he said, and she grinned and stood on her tiptoes, lips pursed for a kiss.

He acquiesced, enjoying the warm comfort of her familiar embrace, the scent of bubblegum lip balm, the feel of her small shoulders in his hands, her fingers linked around the back of his neck. His precious Usako.

Then she let out a soft little sigh as they pulled apart, that little mewl of 'more,' and it was like an electric shock. _That sound, in his ear, swallowed by his mouth, hushed by his frantic whispers as they rocked together on his bed…_ arousal sizzled down his spine, and he gulped and shifted his body a bit, angling his hips away from her.

"Mamo-chan, this Friday can we do our date in the park?" she asked.

"I would love that," he said, sincerely. A public place! Outdoors! Yes, sounds fantastic! "Why don't we make it a picnic?"

She squealed in delight and wrapped him again in a tight hug, pressing her lips to his enthusiastically. Despite himself, his hands fell to her waist, and he kissed her back, and kissed her back some more, and didn't stop because god but he was weak for her.

Her tongue swept into his mouth and her hands ran down his chest, and he wanted to simply die, right there, in her arms, rather than attempt to ever, ever stop kissing her.

Usagi's phone beeped and she reluctantly pulled away from him, pouting slightly. "I bet Minako's wondering where I am," she said, bending over the end table to dig her phone out of her little white purse.

Mamoru was far too worn out to even try to stop himself from staring at the way her skirt rode up on her creamy thighs, the glimpse of lace panties along the swell of her ass. He put his clasped hands down in front of him in what he hoped was a totally natural-looking way to stand.

"I guess I should go, or we'll miss our appointments," Usagi said, sighing as she quickly texted something back to Minako. "I wish I could hang out here longer, but I suppose you have stuff to do, too."

She leaned up and kissed him goodbye, still typing on her phone, and slipped on her sandals and skipped out the door with a "Bye Mamo-chan! See you Friday!"

"If I live 'till then," he muttered to his empty living room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ruined picnic and laundry, what could be sexier?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my gorgeous beta and my 4 Writers support group... er I mean group chat. And every single person who reviewed, reblogged, commented on this fic. ;_; you are all keeping me sane.

_She looked like an angel while sleeping, dusky lashes fanned across pale cheeks, pink lips half open and her expression as relaxed as he ever saw it. She was usually so tense, especially lately. It was lovely to see the skin of her forehead soft and not creased with worry, her chest rising and falling with slow, natural breaths instead of tight with stress. She stirred a bit as he leaned over her, casting a shadow between her and the sun. He reached to brush her cheek with his fingers._

_"I know the young prince hasn't the audacity to touch another sovereign without leave," she murmured without opening her eyes. Her voice was haughty and teasing and he loved her so, so much._

_"Apologies, Princess," he murmured, folding his fingers back. Then, he reached over and picked a flower - a soft-petaled petunia, a sweet pink the color of her lips, her cheeks. Teasingly, he brushed it against her cheek, making her twitch slightly and open those pale blue eyes._

_"Dimi, what-"_

_He felt his face stretch into a grin, a boyish joy that felt unfamiliar but oh-so-coveted. "Well, I'm not touching you per se…"_

_He continued to twirl the petals against her skin, her neck, her shoulders, scandalously along the low neckline of her white dress. She giggled and he thought that must be the most beautiful sound in the cosmos._

_Her hands linked behind his head and she pulled his lips down to hers, soon enough her dress was gone and her hair spilled around them in the garden, and the flower was skimming down the skin of her stomach, her thighs, his lips following with worshipful kisses._

_Her soft, throaty sighs of approval - he thought perhaps that might be the most beautiful sound instead. She tasted like salt and smelled like berries and he was so, so gentle - fingertips soft as the flower he still twirled along her skin, barely touching, luxuriating in the feel of her._

_He ended up between her creamy thighs, mouth against her hot, slick folds, her hands grasping at his hair, his tongue tracing the swells and crevices of her - humming against her clit and making her gasp. His hands slipped around to grasp her buttocks, to raise her up to better angle his tongue into her, his eyes looking up at her, along her body to her gasping, open pink mouth…_

A drop of water fell on his head.

_The flower lay forgotten by their side, her flesh was soft beneath his hands_ …

Another drop.

"Mamo-chan! It's raining!" He opened his eyes to the pattern of the picnic blanket, feeling confused until awareness filtered down into his brain.

He must have dozed off after they finished their picnic, putting his head on his arms and turning on his stomach so the sun wouldn't be in his eyes. Usagi had been sitting next to him, adorable in a white sundress and oversized, cream-colored cardigan. She'd been finishing up her pudding cup, and he'd slipped to sleep by the perfect, beautiful sound of her happily eating.

And then he found himself back in the Silver Millennium, eating her out with abandon in the royal gardens. Thank goodness he was on his stomach, his hard-on uncomfortably pushing against the ground, but not visible.

But… there was something else…

"Mamo-chan?" A small hand shook his shoulder. "Wake up! I said it's raining!"

Oh. Right. That's what that was.

In the few moments it'd taken him to remember where - and who- he was, it went from sprinkling to a much harder, constant downpour.

"We gotta gooo!" Usagi was saying, scrambling to gather their plates and utensils and shove them haphazardly into the picnic basket. She tugged at the blanket under him. "C'mon!" Her voice had an edge of panic to it, Mamoru knew she was very worried it'd start to thunder soon. She'd be wanting to hurry to the dry safety of his apartment just a few blocks away.

"Right," he said, "I got the blanket." He bunched it up and stood, holding it against his waist and willing his body to cooperate and let the effects of the ancient memory wash away with the rain.

By the time they made it into the elevator, they were soaked through, even the blanket was too wet to wrap around Usagi's shivering shoulders. Mamoru was totally focused on getting her warm and safe, not even feeling his own cold although his clothes were drenched as well.

As soon as he got in, he turned up the heat and handed Usagi one of those thick, fluffy towels, before taking one for himself and putting it over his head to rub his hair dry.

When he lifted his head back up, Usagi had dropped her wet cardigan on the floor (he cringed), and stood ringing out her hair with a towel, her white dress pasted to her skin, transparent around her purple polka-dot bra.

"Usa… your dress…" He averted his eyes, cursing himself for enjoying the sight - she was wet and cold and that's all that mattered!

"Oh, right," she said, nodding. With one quick movement, she pulled the wet garment up over her head and threw it on top of her cardigan on the floor.

"Usa!" he gasped, scandalized as she stood there in only her undergarments. His eyes darted everywhere but her naked belly, her long legs. "You- you can't just-"

"Oh!" she said, with a little giggle-gasp. "Sorry, sorry." She bent and picked up her dress and sweater. "I shouldn't put wet things on the floor like that, huh?"

Mamoru massaged his forehead with two fingers. "That's not… you can't just..."

She looked down at her body, then shrugged. "It's not any different than seeing me in a bathing suit, Mamo-chan." Usagi held out her dress and cardigan. "What should I do with these?"

"Hold on," he said, stepping by her and walking into his room. His own wet clothes were forgotten in the mental storm of wanting to avoid looking, knowing he should want to avoid looking, and wanting so much more to stare in brain-dead, horny wonder at his soaking wet, half-naked girlfriend.

He grabbed a thick, cottony t-shirt of his and handed it over to Usagi. "You can wear this, and I'll take those down to dry."

"Do your own too," Usagi reminded him.

When he came out of his room, changed into pajama pants and a tank top, Usagi was already in his t-shirt waiting with her dress, her cardigan, and her bra crumpled in a wet mass of clothes in her hands.

He looked at the damp pile of clothing in his hands, their clothes mixed together. "Uh…"

"No worries, just throw it all in on 'Low' and it'll be fine," she said, clucking at him like a mother hen, even though the last time she attempted to do her own laundry everything ended up streaked with pink and a size and a half too small.

He concentrated on the comforting routine that was the walk to the laundry room, punching in the dryer settings and setting an alarm on his watch so he'd know when the clothes were done.

But when he got back to the apartment, he saw to his consternation (and delight) that the shirt he'd given her displayed her braless breasts far too clearly, he could even see the slight pinkish color of her nipples through the fabric - that is, if he was looking, which he certainly was _not._

Usagi looked up and smiled when he came in, and he joined her on the sofa, feeling his tension melt away and the comforting feeling of her cuddling up next to him. She tented her long legs over his lap and linked her arms loosely around his neck.

"Sorry our picnic got ruined," he told her, and she shrugged in that easy way she had.

"No big," she said, simply. "I like hanging out here with you, too." She paused. "Plus, the rain came _after_ I finished all the food, so that was lucky."

Absentmindedly, he fingered a curl of hair by her ear. Her hair was drying into ringlets, in a way it only did in the rain.

Like many times before, Mamoru wasn't sure who had kissed whom, but he soon found himself melting into her embrace, not really knowing (or caring) how it started.

He cradled her face in his hands, kissing her deeply, slowly and loving the soft sighs she made beneath his lips. Her legs shifted, knees locking around his waist and she either pulled him or he lowered her - or both - back against the cushions. Her mouth opened to his, soft and warm and sweet like sugar, her little hands curling around the nape of his neck, grasping his shirt at the small of his back.

Mamoru was feeling quite warm, floating in a daze of long, deep kisses and the heat of her body beneath his. His hands slid up her side, and he found to his great satisfaction that the thin cotton of her borrowed t-shirt not only showed off her breasts visually but also was a very thin barrier when he cupped the flesh with his hand, thumb brushing a nipple. She whimpered into his mouth as he squeezed slightly, delighting in the feel of her. Soft, soft, _soft…_

He knew the feel of her through fabric, but now thanks to the dreams he knew the _taste_ of her, the feeling of bare hands on her body, how it felt to be inside her… the heat, the wetness, the sound of her gasps and cries...

Out of habit, Mamoru had shifted his hips away from Usagi as they kissed, as he had always done, to keep his arousal from pressing against her. Although, he knew from the memories that Endymion was not shy (nor, by far, was Serenity come to think of it) about how much he wanted her. Hadn't Endymion been worried she'd be scared or unsure or shocked…?

Sensing his distraction, Usagi pulled his head back down to hers, and then he was back to those blissful lips and touchable body and silky thighs. Dizzily, he felt almost as if he was Endymion, pressed against Serenity, and his hand automatically ran up her thigh, under the t-shirt. His greedy hands clutched at the swell of her ass, then he slipped a finger down to circle against the fabric of her panties at the apex of her legs. In response, she whimpered desperately into his mouth, arching her back. His hard-on was throbbing against the couch cushion, but why? When it could be pressed against _her_ … now that he knew exactly how that would feel…

That's when the alarm on his watch began emitting a string of high-pitched beeps and he jumped as if electrocuted.

Strangely, he felt like he was being pulled out of a dream, like that evening in the library. Confused, foggy, uttery turned-on… He glanced down at Usagi who was blinking her luminous blue eyes at him, her lips parted and swollen, her hair spread out against his sofa, her shirt twisted around her belly. "Your watch," she whined slightly, nudging her head toward his wrist. "Make it stooooop."

"S-sorry," he said, shifting to a sitting position and turning off the alarm. Usagi sat up on her elbows, pouting at him.

"I should go get the clothes…" he said, sending up a prayer that he didn't run into anyone in the hallway with a very obvious bulge in his pants.

"Awww." Usagi reached out, pulling him back in for another kiss. "Already?"

Gently, oh-so-gently, he reached back and unlinked her hands from behind his head. He kissed her lightly on the nose and said he'd be right back, and made it from the couch to the genkan in two quick, careful steps.

When he reached the relative privacy of the laundry room, Mamoru rested his hands against the dryer and put his head down, breathing deeply. He loved kissing Usagi, loved touching her - through her clothing - and of course he'd always wanted her, but now this… these dreams were intensely messing with him. He'd half forgotten himself back there! He'd almost… and it had felt so good, and so _right…_

_Stop thinking about it,_ he shouted at himself in his head. _You need to calm down!_

He pulled the now more-or-less dry clothing out from the dryer and began to sort.

Sex with Usagi was had always been a tantlizing inevitabilty, ever since he learned they'd literally met their future child. He'd been a teenager at the time and obsessed with the idea more than he'd ever let on. But it was an eventuality - a certainty in a far, nebulous future.

He folded his pants and shirt and gently shook out Usagi's cardigan.

And now he was experiencing their past selves actually doing those things and it suddenly seemed… achingly possible to experience those things for real.

He folded her dress and placed the cardigan on top, slipping her bra between them for decorum's sake.

But while he desperately wanted to do those things with Usagi, do things _to_ Usagi, it made him blush just thinking about it while in the presence of his sweetheart of a girlfriend.

_Ugh, what a fucking mess you are, Chiba,_ he thought, as he stepped back into his apartment.

Thankfully (tragically), Usagi did not rip the t-shirt off her the way she had her dress. Instead, she skipped into his bedroom to change back (not, he noted, closing the door), and came out holding the t-shirt she'd borrowed.

"Can I keep it?" she asked, all puppy eyes while she nuzzled the soft cotton. "It smells like you."

"No," he said, taking it out of her hands sternly. "This is one of the only ones I have left. Where are all the dozens you've already 'borrowed'?"

Usagi gave him a sheepish pout. He slung his arm around her thin shoulders, squeezing her to him a bit. "C'mon Odango Atama, I'll give you a ride home."

_And suggest some outings with the girls for the next few Friday dates…._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my beta and friend, irritable-vowel-types and thanks to Floraone for motivating me as well! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and enjoyed this fic! I hope you find this last chapter funny/sexy/cute! We could all use a distraction after all :)

The chatter of the girls faded to a buzz of background noise as Mamoru sipped his espresso and tried very hard not to think about sex.

The bright, cheerful colors of the crown fruits cafe, the giggles of Usagi's friends, the cacophony of video games noises from the adjacent arcade, none of it was even close to a sexy atmosphere. But Usagi's knee was bumping his beneath the table as she leaned forward to shriek-laugh something at Minako, and some whipped cream from her sundae was still sitting just to the left of those pink bow lips, and he shouldn't be imagining leaning over to slowly lick it off her skin, sucking gently on her bottom lip as he went.

The memories of his past life's escapades into the carnal arts had begun to _haunt_ him, every time he closed his eyes he knew a new dream awaited him. And he supposed he should hate them, after all, there was the lack of sleep and the constant blue balls to consider - but instead he craved them. The taste of her skin, the sound of her gasps, the feel of her -hot and slick- around his cock… so _real_ and so _amazing._

It was a guilty pleasure he didn't want to escape.

But it did make being around Usagi a trifle more difficult. Every nerve in his body was attuned to her nearness, every brush of her hand or chaste peck of her lips on his cheek was amplified through the filter of whatever he had experienced with her thousands of years ago. Thousands of years ago and just that morning.

It was exhausting.

Avoiding Usagi was out of the question, of course. He could easily tell her school was running him ragged, and that he needed some time to himself to really focus, and she'd be kind and understanding and sweet and lovely about it. But the very idea of taking a break, however short, from his girlfriend's radiant, sunshine-y presence made him want to cry. He couldn't do it, could never do it, she was a treasured, vital part of his life.

He'd defeated death itself multiple times over to be with Usagi, he could handle a little sexual frustration.

Right?

The conversation shifted to a friendly argument between Minako and Rei about the new cute cashier at Family Mart and if he preferred blonde or black hair, and Usagi settled back and leaned her head on Mamoru's shoulder. He managed to repress a jump, trying to untense his muscles and let her melt into him like always.

But he was just too tense. Too much of his concentration was trying to keep focus away from the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body.

To keep from remembering the way Serenity had teasingly pulled him behind a pillar at a fancy event and shoved her tongue in his mouth, just out of sight of the entire Golden Kingdom court, and how he'd taken her hand and pulled her through passageways and secret doors to a random storeroom. He had let her press him against a wall of wine jugs, and it had been so long since Endymion had seen her, since he felt her touch, that every brush of her hands on his body rippled through him like lightning. Mamoru's alarm had blared him awake at a very inopportune time, and he'd felt on edge all day.

Usagi shifted to look at him, clearly sensing his discomfort. She reached for his hand, and her palm skimmed his upper thigh.

He jumped away out of reflex, stumbling out of the booth and away from Usagi. His face burned in mortification as five pairs of eyes stared at him in shock. He focused on the most precious pair specifically - her eyes were concerned, confused. Hurt.

"Mamo-chan... is everything okay?" she said, so softly, so tentatively. It wasn't like her.

He cleared his throat, rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I'm fine but… I just remembered I have to go."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Minako and Makoto exchange a raised-brow 'this is awkward' look.

Mamoru never made plans on Friday evenings. Friday evenings were hers. Theirs. Everyone knew that.

But he couldn't formulate a better lie, all he knew was that he had to get away from Usagi's too-blue, too-pretty, too-searching gaze.

* * *

She followed him. Because of course she did.

His precious, stubborn Usako and her desire for skinship whenever anything was wrong, chipping away at his introvert walls and need for space. She'd grown up enough to give him some time to himself, not to chase after him and confront him on the sidewalk anymore, but to show up at his apartment half an hour after he'd collapsed on the sofa, throw pillow over his head, suffering in silence.

Mamoru heard the door unlock, recognized the sound of her breathing, the shuffling as she took off her shoes, the way she carelessly dropped her jacket in the genkan even though the hook was _right there._

Then her stocking feet padded along the carpet until she was standing by his coffee table and regarding him with a look he could picture perfectly without even glancing at her.

"So this is where you had to go so urgently? To mope on your sofa in the dark?"

He shifted the pillow from his eyes and looked at Usagi, who had raised her pretty blonde eyebrows at him, a small frown on her perfect soft lips.

Taking his lack of an answer as an affirmative, she continued, "Can I join you then?" She went to sit on the space by his waist, and he sat up and scrambled to the other side of the sofa before her butt even hit the cushion.

Even he knew that was overkill, and shot her a sheepish look when her jaw dropped.

"Mamo-chan, I'm not _contagious_ ," she said, throwing her hands in the air. "What is wrong with you?"

He swallowed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just… it's complicated." Filled with nervous energy, and fighting a blush, he stood and paced a bit. At this point, he just had to explain - maybe he could do it without being too graphic and upsetting her. "I've been having…" His face was hot, he didn't look at her. "Dreams."

"Okay?" Usagi said, brows knitting. "Like… bad dreams?" Her face changed, became slightly fearful, clearly remembering the last time he'd avoided her due to nightmares.

"No, no!" he reassured her, putting his hands out like a surrender. "No, not… not like that. They are about our past lives… Memories, more like."

Usagi's eyes were sad, her voice a whisper. "Sad ones?"

Mamoru thought back to when he regained his memory - the second time- after she'd healed Ail and An and brought him back from the empty oblivion he'd been living without her. She confided in him that sometimes her worst nightmares were the Princess's last moments, with Endymion dying in her arms. She was clearly thinking about that now, and he hated how her face fell.

His embarrassment was (nearly) forgotten in his hurry to clear up this misunderstanding. "No," he cleared his throat. "No, good ones."

She tilted her head, still looking at him in cautious confusion.

He cleared his throat again. " _Very_ good ones. Too good, in fact."

Usagi made an incredulous sound, and followed it with, "Mamo-chan, how could a dream be too good?"

Mamoru was searching for the words to describe the very intimate relationship Endymion and Serenity had had, and how it was haunting his sleep in the best and worst possible way, when Usagi suddenly seemed to catch on and piped up.

"Oooooh, you mean the sex dreams? Like, from when were together on the moon and stuff?"

Relieved, he nodded and was midway through verbally confirming when his brain caught up with his ears. "Wait. How'd you…? You… you _know_?!"

Usagi was looking at him strangely. "Well, they are my memories, too, Mamo-chan."

He was floored. In all the scenarios he'd imagined coming clean about his nocturnal dalliances with a princess from the past, Usagi's causal confirmation and confusion at his stress was very much not one of them.

"Since when?" he demanded, still standing in front of the sofa in wide-eyed disarray, while Usagi sat in front of him, the very picture of calm and collected. This was certainly a role reversal.

"Since when what?" she asked, still looking at him like she did when he used to attempt to tutor her in her schoolwork and brought up a particularly perplexing math problem.

"Since when have you had the dreams… memories… what… when…?" He was stuttering, now. How had she been able to act normal, to skip along and hold his hand and kiss him and not be a melting infernio of sexual frustration these past few weeks? How?

"I dunno," she said, shrugging. "I don't remember, like, the exact _day_ they started, Mamo-chan." She snorted a bit as if that was a ridiculous thought, and Mamoru bristled a little because _he_ certainly remembered the exact day he'd experienced his first memory/sex dream in the university library. "Probably like… let's see, I think we were fighting the Amazon Quartet at the time? Or like, maybe it was while I was studying for exams…"

"Wait," Mamoru said, looking at her in utter shock. "You've been having these …" he lowered his voice, "sex… dreams, memories whatever, since you were _fifteen_?"

Usagi shrugged again, her look clearly saying 'yeah, so?' "Why, when'd you start?"

He flushed a deep red, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "A… few weeks ago," he mumbled to the carpet and then Usagi's casual expression disappeared and she hopped up from the sofa and pulled on his arm.

"Really?!" she cried, and then her eyes softened up at him. "Oh, Mamo-chan," she murmured. "No wonder you've been acting so weird."

He swallowed, not looking at her. There was a beat of silence, and Mamoru wondered what she'd say next, would they have to sit down and have a serious talk about their sexual relationship (or lack thereof?), would Usagi expect the same sexual prowess Endymion had seemed to show in the dreams (nevermind that he certainly didn't expect Usagi to be as experienced as Serenity…), would things be awkward now? Would Usagi be upset he'd been gunshy about confiding in her? Would-

"So which was your favorite?" Usagi's sweet voice broke through his anxiety like a light in the darkness.

He blinked down at her, from where she was gazing up at him, her arm still linked through his, looking for all the world as if she just asked him his favorite movie they'd watched, or which restaurant he'd enjoyed going to this past month.

How, he wondered, and not for the first time, did someone so utterly perfect actually exist?

"Uh…" Mamoru swallowed, "I'm not sure," he said. Then he cleared his throat. "Maybe… maybe the observatory?" His skin was hot, and he was still having trouble looking direct at her. In the observatory of the Silver Millenium palace, the Princess had given him his first lesson in the pleasures of lower gravity. The day he woke from that memory, he was late to class for the first time that semester.

Usagi sighed happily. "I love that one," she reminisced, leaning her cheek to his arm. "My favorite is the reflecting pool, though."

Mamoru blinked. "The reflecting pool…?"

"Oh you don't remember that one?" she asked, leading him to the sofa and sitting down next to him, primly crossing her legs and straightening her skirt over her lap. "Hmm, okay. What about the flower gardens?"

"Yes, that was…," he cleared his throat, "nice."

Usagi sighed, dreamily. "It was."

"Why," he paused. "Why didn't you tell me? About the dreams you were having? The memories of… our past intimacy?"

Usagi scratched the side of her face with one pink oval nail. "Hmm. It guess it just never came up?" She shrugged. "Also, maybe I just didn't think my sex dreams were any of your buisness," she said, cheekily dimpling at him. "Even if you did star in most of them."

 _Most?_ His gut cried before his brain chimed in with: _Not the point, Chiba._

"So," he looked down at his hands, laced together on his lap like he was at a job interview and not sitting next to the love of his life in his own apartment. "What now?"

Usagi shifted to her knees and looked at him curiously. "What do you mean 'what now'?"

He looked at her, opened his mouth, closed it again. To this girl who shed her wet dress in his hallway without blinking, who kissed with reckless abandon no matter if someone might be watching, who screamed in joy in public and loudly and messily ate every meal like it was her last, to this utterly uninhibited person, vivid memories of wanton lovemaking were just… no… big… deal?

And how had he not already guessed that would be the case? He'd known her for five years, dated her for most of that time, was obsessed with her for the rest of it, and was only dead for about 7 months of it. Yet she always continued to surprise him.

"I…" He stopped. Unsure what to say. _I want you. I'm_ tortured _over wanting you. But I don't want random dreams to dictate the direction of our relationship. Not anymore. And I'm more than ready to move to the next step of our relationship but I'm also happy as we are now and I am so worried about ruining something that feels to utterly and completely perfect to me and -_

She interrupted his internal soliloquy with a simple: "So d'ya wanna hear about the reflecting pool?"

Pearl teeth tugged on pink glossed lips and the, "Yes," was out of his mouth before he'd even realized.

Usagi began with the wide-eyed enthusiasm she had when describing her favorite manga or TV drama, but her voice soon turned husky as the erotic details she was conveying clearly began to weave their effect. Her breathing was faster and her skin was pink and without realizing it, they'd shifted so she was straddling his lap, his hands on her waist and her lips at his ear.

He half-moaned, half-sighed, head falling back against the couch as she began to trace her hands across his chest as she whispered, and his fingers twitched against her waist, sliding down to her hips. This time, when her closeness and her fingers and her words all combined to throb between his legs, he didn't move away, didn't twist and hide his arousal, and she certainly seemed to appreciate that.

They had time, as Mamoru had previously told himself. All the time their past selves hadn't. Time most couples could only wish for. And it was okay for him to be shy, to need coaxing and patience to open up about some things.

But, damn, did she feel good pressing against him, rocking slightly on him and words had melted into thick, open-mouthed kissing and wandering hands and …

Some things are better than even the best dreams.


End file.
